


Make of Me a Subject Bound

by BoPeepWithNoSheep



Series: Gently Rise and Softly Call [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Barry and Lup are Bad Cop and Kravitz is Ambivalent Cop, Gen, Good Cop Bad Cop, Interrogation, Necromancy, Religious Cults, except there's no good cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-07 19:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoPeepWithNoSheep/pseuds/BoPeepWithNoSheep
Summary: A certain would-be cleric of Lucretia learns there are consequences for one's actions, particularly when they involve pissing off some of the most powerful family in the entire planar system.orIn which Tres Angry Reapers fuck Bastion’s shit up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! If you're reading this before you've read Rest for the Wicked you're gonna be a little bit confused! This takes place roughly around chapters 14-16 in the sort nebulous points where Lucretia was asleep.

Lucretia’s cult has the reapers in something of a tizzy, as much as Kravitz doesn’t exactly want to admit it. The entire description Barry had relayed while dropping of the leader is a grotesque tale of misplaced delusions of divinity and a dangerous discovery for this entire plane. Bond magic, according to Barry is a particularly potent sort of horror when mixed with necromancy when in the wrong hands. Kravitz is inclined to say that there are no _right_ hands when it comes to necromancy but given the exhausted look on Barry's face and the defeated slope to his shoulders, Kravitz keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he busies himself with preparing an interrogation room and tethering the captured soul to it while Barry wanders off to retrieve his wife.

“By order of her Divine Force and Heavenly Splendor, the Raven Queen has sentenced you to an eternal sentence in the Stockade. Should you cooperate, your sentence may be mitigated to a lighter punishment and an eventual reincarnation. How do you respond to Her Majesty’s mercy?”

The elf’s smile is bland but their eyes shine with a smugness Kravitz is rather used to in necromancers, “My actions were on behalf of a greater goddess and being _bond magic_ , not necromancy is outside your jurisdiction.”

Kravitz keeps a straight face in spite of his immediate urge to grimace, every necromancer always thinks they’re the one exception or that the little loophole they’ve found for themselves is airtight. The reaper has found he’s only met two exceptions in his very very long life and even they were not free of consequences.

“Your actions ripped the soul from a mortal form, divine or not that is a punishable offense--” Kravitz pauses, glancing down to his book to find the proper name for this criminal. However, before he’s able to scroll through the tidy list of crimes there seems to be a small snap in the cult leader’s composure--Or at least enough indignation to allow for a caustic reply.

“Is it a crime to free a wounded animal from a hunter’s trap? I did Lady Lucretia a mercy! She will be reborn divine, I know it! You can try and keep it hidden from me but I know I succeeded, I can _feel_ it.”

The door to the interrogation room slams open in a fashion completely unnecessary considering that every reaper under the Raven Queen’s employ can open portals to move about the astral plane. A mountain of a man sweeps in, and it reminds Kravitz how internally grateful he is these days that Barry is on his side. Lup follows after, both of them look like specters of doom for all the dark atmosphere that palpably wafts off the couple.

Barry’s been in and out of the astral plane for hours but this is the first time he’s seen Lup since the pair left yesterday to go after Lucretia. If anything, her anger burns brighter than it had when they left, though based upon what little information the cult leader has shared combined with what he’d managed to pull out of Barry well--

He finds himself thinking back to good Captain Davenport’s words which had been broadcasted into his brain. Haven’t they earned a little wrath?

The answer comes abruptly and without mercy as Barry slams a fist down onto the table directly beside the cultist’s neatly folded hands. The elf jerks back in their chair, nearly toppling over but for the fact that in a flash of red Lup is behind them, kicking their chair back into place. She keeps her foot ground against the back of the elf’s back, even leaning in slightly and pushing the cultist forward as she looms behind him. It brings them eye-level with Barry, who’s eyes burn a bright red reaper’s glow.

“Ya know, Lucy’s name is far too good to come off the lips of trash,” Lup croons before jerking her foot away, a feral grin blooming on her face as the cultist scrambles back and away from Barry’s more imposing figure, “How about you don’t say it again or _else_.”

It’s the first sort of reaction the elf has had in the entirety of their prolonged custody with Kravitz--And he’s personally overseen their custody since Barry had dragged the leader while they kicked and screamed about a holy purpose. Zealots were one of Kravitz’ least favorite death criminals to work with. Those who chose the craft out of grief could at times be reasoned with, and those who took up necromancy out of greed were at least predictable. A creature powered by dark magic and blind faith, however, could break bad in any number of very grisly ways.

Really, Kravitz is surprised things aren’t worse for Lucretia, he’s grateful it isn’t of course, but there’s a genuine sort of awe over the fact that according to the latest update she may not be exactly healthy but she’s alive. It had sent Kravitz searching through his bounty tome, worried he would have to be the bearer of bad news but to his great shock, there are no new violations listed under Lucretia’s name.

Lucretia has no name listed at all.

That is, of course, a problem for future Kravitz when they’ve determined what the absolute fuck this mad elf has done exactly. Having Barry here, dissecting the magic circle used along with its components certainly helps to figure out the steps for which the process went about but with magic, especially magic like necromancy intent is just as important a component as powdered silver or diamonds soaked in aasimar blood. And what this cultist has managed to do?

Well, Her Majesty wants to make certain that _no one_ manages to ever do it again.

There’s a newfound nervousness on the elf’s face now that Lup and Barry have joined the fray, which makes sense considering the two of them had a hand in the Cultist’s rather gruesome death. Mostly it had been Magnus’ hands, but he’s sure the whole family had gotten a few hits in just based on the extensive damage. The body had been brought over for further examination in case of necromatic contamination and there had been enough singed hair and the trace of a power word stun that spoke of the couple’s handiwork.

A grisly death for any mortal, one that under different circumstances Kravitz might even feel a bit sorry for, because he takes no joy in suffering. However, this mortal has done possibly irrevocable damage to his newfound family so he finds his well of sympathy rather dry. Now that Barry and Lup have arrived he’s content to stand back and allow the couple to work, within limits of course. It’s difficult to wipe a soul from existence, but he knows Lup has nearly managed it once before and Barry’s brilliant enough to think of five ways if he really put his mind to it.

Kravitz, head reaper and senior bounty hunter for the most venerable Raven Queen isn’t in this room for the protection of his staff, he’s really only here so they don’t go _too_ far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is gonna be a Fun Piece, it'll be roughly three-four chapters long with a POV chapter for Lup and Barry and POSSIBLY one for Bastion themselves if I really get into it. I'll start delving a little more into the sides tories of RftW because there's really only two or so chapters left on that fella but A LOT that I'd still like to address.
> 
> If you have any specific requests you can send them my way on tumblr to @bopeepwritingsheep and you might inspire a whole new ficlet or if I already had it planned, bump it up in my writing queue.
> 
> This fic title is taken from Hitting On All Sevens from Alleluia! The Devil's Carnival.


	2. Chapter 2

Lup knows herself very well, when a person ends up trapped with only themselves for nearly a decade it’s hard not to end up with a lot of introspection. She knows she’d like nothing more than to send this ‘Bastion’ as Lucretia had called them to a one-way ticket to nonexistence. It wouldn’t be hard, not really, souls are more fragile than people think. Resilient, yes, if even a scrap of the soul is left it’ll always find a way to come back but it would take time and Lup knows that if there’s anything she has it’s most certainly time.

She can keep obliterating this punk bitch’s soul until it sticks.

But first, they have to figure out what the fuck this poser did to Lucretia’s soul. Barry’s been doing most of the immediate legwork, just because he’s more of a necromancer than she’s ever been. She’d learned the craft out of necessity where her husband has an honest to gods interest in the subject combined with his natural talent for the arcana.

Roughing up the fucker is admittedly equal parts catharsis and interrogation technique, she’s still so angry at herself. Angry for not keeping in touch better with Lucretia and noticing she was gone, angry with her job for keeping her off the hunt for those crucial days, and very very angry with the elf before her for orchestrating it all.

They’re more afraid of Barry than they are of her, which she supposes makes sense she’d really only gotten one good swipe at them while they’d been conscious. Barry meanwhile had been only second to dear Maggie in manhandling the cretin. It’s an easy thing to remedy though, she floods heat into her hands, spell sculpting something fierce and unsuspecting before settling her palm against the back of the elf’s neck.

They release a startled cry but her grip on their neck is hard and unflinching, there’s no smell of burnt flesh but that’s only because technically Bastion has no flesh for her to burn but, being a reaper comes with it’s perks.

“So, your little lackeys say you’re called The First Bastion of Faerun’s Last Light. Pretty _tacky_ , if you ask me. I’m gonna guess my girl Lucy was that Light,” They begin to open their mouth to answer but Lup tightens her grip on the base of their neck, “That was a rhetorical question, keep up. Now what I really _want_ to know is where you thought you were sending Luce.”

She releases them but keeps two fingers pressed lightly against the place in which their neck meets their spine, her fingers no longer burning to the touch but still unpleasantly warm. A warning and one she isn’t afraid to enact. Really, a small part of her hopes that Bastion will test her, just a little bit because she has all of this rage red hot and writhing. It’s all gunked up like a wad of old gum, stuck in her chest cavity. She can’t get rid of it, not through anything constructive so it’s a great temptation to reach deep down to her most basic instincts.

She’s admitted to the sin of wrath once, she knows that sins are just as much an aspect of a person as their virtues and it’s nothing she’ll let herself be shamed for. Still, she can really only think of one other time when the emotion has coursed through her veins the way it does now. That undead fuck who had almost killed Taako, who had killed Magnus technically, but they’d gotten him back.

They’ve gotten back Lucretia but that doesn’t make her any less angry, because unlike what’s his lich there are actual rules and strictures in the way of her just obliterating this creep.

Most of all though, Bastion doesn’t need to know they’ve got Lucretia back--Because as far as she and Barry can tell deconstructing the circle and it’s magical elements by all means they shouldn’t have gotten Lucretia back. It’s a miracle, it’s a literal goddamn miracle to have her back in a mostly mortal state and conscious. Barry has theories, some still percolating up in his brain but he’s shared a few. Lup has more of her own besides that and none of them are particularly good. As far as she figures Lucretia, in some shape or form, likely would have survived this whole thing in a manner of speaking _but_ \--

Lup isn’t really sure she considers having one's soul torn apart then fused back together with celestial energy into some kind of Holy Lucretia Mosaic would have really been the same as the mostly intact soul they seem to have gotten back. Especially if Barry’s theories are correct and all that energy would have overpowered the mortal body she’d left behind.

It _scares_ Lup, more than she has words to say just how close she keeps realizing they’d come to losing Lucretia. Whatever Bastion would have made her into, whatever half-life they would have forced her to live is another little horror to seep into her nightmares. That Bastion has such an absolute delusion to not realize that they had nearly destroyed the person they so venerated is so unbelievably frustrating. Worse yet, they _hurt_ her. They keep spouting love and devotion and bloody fucking pride and _they hurt her_.

It makes Lup’s blood _boil_.

She’d like to make Bastion’s, if Kravitz will let her once they finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Lup is very fun to write, but I'm looking forward to angry Barry because he's turning out to be such a slow burn aggressive that's been very interesting to write.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes the last chapter of your fic is the same length as the first two combined, it just be like that.

Barry slowly circles the table, he’s never really found himself particularly intimidating let alone menacing, not on his own at least. He’s learned over the decades that there’s a careful artform to intimidation, and really what a person has to do is tailor their tricks to their audience. Lup and Taako are bombastic and about as subtle as a brick through a window. Meanwhile, Lucretia and Davenport are a subdued sort of intimidating, a quiet promise and certain threat all in one. Magnus and Merle lay somewhere in between those two spectrums, lilting wildly from one end to the other but Barry more often than not finds his tactics taking a different route.

The time as a red robe he’d borrowed from Lup, made a spectacle to put a point across but that’s not really him. Sure, he can be a bit bombastic but more than anything he’s analytical. Lucretia and Davenport are too but Davenport is all action and Lucretia, well, she’s a bit all or nothing in ways that tend to go very well or very badly.

Barry’s a war of attrition kind of guy. Right now he’s setting up all the dominoes to knock this bastard down one slow piece at a time.

With steady hands, because he learned how to stop them from shaking by biting the inside of his cheek decades ago, Barry places a thick stack of papers down. He barely spares Bastion a single glance as he spreads the papers out, each of them a careful dissection of Bastion’s circle, of Bastion’s spell components, of the magic sigils on the cuffs he’d found when Barry went back to investigate the cell they’d held Lucretia in.

It’s what he’s spent all his waking hours doing since then, and despite his lingering humanity he doesn’t need that much sleep--Especially when he leans into his lich magic to keep burning the midnight oil. Figuring out exactly what was done to Lucretia and how they can prevent it from ever happening again is far more important than him getting a few hours of shut-eye.

Finally, he deigns to look up at Bastion as his hand trails along one particular piece of paper, the magical circle they’d stumbled onto mid-ritual. Bastion cringes back, just slightly when Barry makes eye contact and Barry’s first thought is simply, _Good._ They should be scared, they should be terrified of exactly what they’ve done. They’re not, they’re only scared of Barry right now but that will change when the reaper is through with them.

“This is the circle you used on Lucretia. I’m gonna make a wager that you never dabbled in necromancy before this _completely_ idiotic idea of yours. You know how I know that?”

They stare back at them, lips pressed into a thin line and jaw clenched ever so slightly. They’re angry, that’s good, it means they’ll get sloppy sooner or later. If just a minor insinuation of incompetence has them this irritated when Barry pulls out the big guns it’ll _decimate_ them. It’s all just a matter of presenting things right, pushing all the right buttons to get them to crack but not to crumble until the reapers have fished out the information they need.

Barry presses on, “Because you based this bullshit off _my_ bullshit. Lucretia documented my research with bond magic, not in enough detail for someone to get it right but I guess it was enough for someone to _fuck it up_.”

He can see it all, clear as day, the tatters of his own fingerprints on the circle so to speak. The amount it has in common with his own lich transformation is _completely_ unsettling. Thankfully, however, the main portion ripped wholesale from Barry and Lup’s careful plans is only the soul ripping aspect. An extremely delicate process that’s nearly impossible to do without some level of soul corruption without the intervention of bond science.

In a way, Barry should be happy, if this idiot hadn’t conducted this piss poor replication Lucretia’s soul probably would have ended up a shattered mosaic in the astral plane. It’s not a comfort, but it’s some silver lining to be found in the whole situation however bleak. His and Lup’s work might be the only thing that’s keeping Bastion from being completely obliterated by said wife’s magic.

“Using radiant magic to power this rune instead of necromatic was clever, I’ll give you that.” He lobs the comment sarcastically and can’t help but sneer when Bastion practically preens. It _isn’t_ a compliment. Barry’s ready to snatch out the base from Bastion’s delusional little house of cards and spread them all on the table so they can read out their own failures.

“Streamlines the whole process you went for, no need to reconvert the energy to rip into the celestial plane if you’re already siphoning off it. Made you harder for us to track too but this rune,” Barry raps a skeletal finger against one particular symbol a little a flaming heart with a band around it, “That symbol is _mine_ and I could track any magic emanating from it anywhere in the planar system.”

He leans in farther, getting into Bastion’s face as the elf practically contorts, trapped between Barry at their front and Lup behind. Kravitz lingers in the corner, a silent observer. Still, there’s a furrow to his eyebrows that tells Barry he needs to hurry up to his point. Kravitz is doing them a favor, letting them be the ones to lead the interrogation but if they don’t get results he’ll still take over.

Barry leans back, taking a certain amount of unbridled satisfaction as Bastion leans forward as soon as the reaper is out of their personal space. They scramble through the papers, looking for what Barry pointed out. Glances down, then up, mouth slightly ajar. Barry smiles, it isn’t a pleasant grin, a predator baring his teeth, “You basically hand wrote me an invitation to kick your ass.”

Bastion sputters, “But you were too late! The ritual worked!”

Barry scoffs, “Your ritual worked exactly how it was written, took the naturally occurring bond magic in Lucretia’s soul and synced it with all that celestial energy you forced into her soul. You just forgot one _very_ important thing. Mortal bodies _can’t_ take that kind of magic.”

Bastion only looks angrier tas Barry riddles their plan with all of its obvious holes. The reaper assumes the whole thing must have taken them months to conceive all on their own. Were circumstances different, maybe Barry would have been able to analyze the circle and it’s associated magic with less unmitigated malice clouding his evaluation. The thing is, this fucker basically nuked the soul of one of his family members.

So, he’s not feeling very impartial.

Proving that Bastion is the exact wrong type of person to be working with the delicate science of bond magic, they double down on their wrongness, “She wasn’t--She wouldn’t _need_ a mortal body. Besides, it was in such poor condition, she needed to be freed from it.”

“And where in the fuck was she _supposed_ to go?” Lup interjects, leaning forward and forcing Bastion to crane their neck to look up at her, “Your spell didn’t create a new form for her, just left an empty shell she couldn’t even possess because whatever you turned her into it _wasn’t_ a bond lich.”

Whether out of fear for Lup’s renewed proximity and low simmering rage, or the realization of their fuck up finally kicking in, Bastion hesitates. Their brows knit, and they fumble slightly reaching up to adjust glasses that aren’t there. “That--That doesn’t matter, I succeeded. She _couldn’t_ die so it’s irrelevant.”

Lup sneers, “Her soul couldn’t die in the traditional sense, her body very much could and very much _did_.”

With that bomb dropped Bastion’s brain seems to sputter to a halt as they simply stay, mouth agape and eyes wide. There’s a sharp intake of breath as they begin to push up from their chair, “You’re _lying_.”

Lup’s hand on the back of their neck tightens and she shoves them back down, “We sure fucking wish we were, you holy nobody.” Her hands are shaking with rage and with impatience, Barry can tell. Honestly, he feels the same way if it were up to either of the lovers he knows this interrogation would be going very differently. However, this isn’t technically their rodeo and frankly, both their bosses, Kravitz and The Raven Queen are giving them a lot more of a say in this whole show than had been anticipated. It isn’t that Barry’s ungrateful and neither is Lup, he’s not looking to bite the hand that’s feeding him this time--

He just wishes there were a few less regulations, or that he had some time to comb through for loopholes in the ones he’s sworn to follow.

Speak of the reaper, as if summoned by Barry’s errant thought, Kravitz speaks up from his corner. It’s the first time since his coworkers had arrived that he's spoken. His expression is dour and his voice utterly flat, bereft of any work accent, “Her body is down in evidence if you’re terribly pressed to confirm our truthfulness.”

Under Kravitz’ sudden intense, crimson gaze Bastion’s whole form tenses, like a deer caught in headlights before they suddenly deflate. Slowly, exhaling a crackling sort of whine Bastion’s limbs go limp all fight draining for a brief moment. Barry feels that same streak of vindication from when he’d broken the elf’s ribs when they’d still be alive.

Then all at once, the calm before the storm subsides. Their hands slam against the table once, twice, and they howl, “ _No!_ No, I worked so hard! I can’t have failed, I was _helping_ her!”

The elf shakes now, hands trembling so badly they can barely grasp the paper with Lucretia’s circle copied down. Their eyes scan every aspect of the circle, Barry presumes to look for the flaw that would have doomed Lucretia if not for the inference of a higher power that Bastion has no right to know about.

“You were killing her, and you _succeeded_.” He snarls, looming over Bastion and infusing complete, unrepentant venom into every word.

“I-I didn’t _mean_ to,” Anger wars with pure despair on their features. Barry thinks it must be that damnable unshakeable pride that keeps cropping up that keeps Bastion from devolving into a complete mess, “I watched her--I scryed and scryed and she was always so _sad_. She was dying existing like that, I only wanted to _save_ her.”

“And ripping out a soul is saving someone now?” Lup is just as vicious, righteous fury dripping from crimson lips, “Color me surprised your piss poor penmanship and spell sculpting didn’t completely obliterate her soul.”

“I knew what I was doing,” They snap, momentarily recovering from sorrow to bare their teeth in spite of eyes brimming with fresh tears, “My glyphs were _foolproof_ , all of my components perfect! It was something else--All of you, you interrupted my ceremony! You ruined it, you ruined Lucretia!”

Lup fires back, “We did _everything_ in our power to save her you two-bit consecrated clown. You think a few months worth of bond magic study beats out a century?”

“Your damnable lover’s research was only the basis of my plan, I had no interest in your _necromancy_ , blood and bone are _nothing_. I harnessed the innate power within the very soul, stardust and the celestial building blocks of every being. Pooling radiant energy for months in the circle then a touch of transmutation on a more empyrean level, the only _scrap_ necromancy I allowed to touch my goddess was that bloody sigil of yours for stability and obviously, it failed!”

Lup and Barry are nearly silent for a moment, the only sound Bastion’s heavy breathing. It’s as if time stands still as the words register and the couple’s horror slowly blooms.

“Gods,” It nearly floors Barry as he pieces together the mad fragments the elf throws down at their feet, “You didn’t bind her soul, you _transmutated_ it.”

Lup bursts in next, her brain whirring through the data just as quickly as she snatches up the remaining papers “That’s how you avoided her getting pulled into the astral plane right away.”

Barry finishes the thought, mind frenzied with panic as to how absolutely terrible things could have turned out. If Bastion’s plan had moved forward without the intervention of Jeffandrew, it sends a shudder down his spine, “Of course her body wouldn’t accept it back, a soul made of pure celestial energy would have _vaporized_ a body if forced into it.”

“She wouldn’t need a body any longer!” Bastion insists, the implications of their own actions completely lost on the elf. This isn’t even a misunderstanding of bond science, Barry realizes. There’s no way that Bastion could have missed this in their research, it has to be absolute blind arrogance that anything could prevent such an event from occurring. That blind arrogance only spurs them on, “She would reform after her time in the celestial plane as something greater.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, realizing how close they came to not just Lucretia dying. Not just losing her to the astral plane, they could have worked out some deal with The Raven Queen if that occurred but well and truly _losing_ Lucretia. Every part of her fundamental to _being_ Lucretia burned away by a mad elf with projected delusions of divinity.

“You--You arrogant piece of shit, you severed all her fucking bonds to _do_ that. Who knows what plane she even ended up in with that much unstable magic! If getting tossed through the planes as a completely untethered life force didn’t shred her beyond any form of recognition then it would still take eons for her to even begin to reform into something _sentient_.”

Barry is ready to go on, explain all of the exact why’s and how’s of Bastion’s absolute godawful excuse for a plan when Kravitz clears his throat. Bastion’s eyes immediately snap to the corner of the room as they seem to realize that the Head Reaper was even there at all. Barry figures it out before Bastion seems to but only by a few moments. The elf attempts to stand and flee? Protest perhaps but Kravitz merely raises one hand, summoning his bounty book with a casual flourish.

In the other, he summons his scythe.

“Beckett Delyth Grey, former High Cleric of Eldath, based upon your own testimony I hereby find you guilty of crimes against the living and trespasses against the realm of Her Majesty, The Raven Queen. The theft of the soul of Lucretia of Tosun and Faerun, the _corruption_ of the previously noted soul, and it’s banishment beyond the reach of The Raven Queen.”

As the book snaps shut Kravitz glances up, looking utterly bored as if Bastion were less than the dust on his shoes. Barry feels an odd sort of buoy in his heart as he watches the interaction. If they weren't in a work environment Barry would hug his boss just for the sheer look of _terror_ Kravitz is able to instill upon Bastion so effortlessly. Kravitz heels click against the tiled floor as his form shifts from handsome to skeletal and he ever so carefully levels his scythe at Bastion. With a flick of his wrist, it rests against the elf's neck. The head reaper tilts the blade, raising their chin a half-inch. It forces Bastion's eyes, frantic and fearful as they are to look directly into Kravitz' own glowing red.

“I’ve taken the liberty of preparing your cell, solitary confinement for a duration of time to be determined while The Raven Queen decides your final sentence. Once you _are_ released into general population might I suggest avoiding one Maureen Miller. Rumors spread quickly among the dead, and I’ve been informed she’s _terribly_ cross with the person who murdered her wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I have to give Kravitz the last word? Nah. Was it an incredibly satisfying few sentences to write? You bet it was.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any specific requests for this series you can send them my way on tumblr to @bopeepwritingsheep and you might inspire a whole new ficlet or if I already had it planned, bump it up in my writing queue.


End file.
